


May I Feel

by ForHeavensSake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotic Poetry, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 10:10:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8708446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForHeavensSake/pseuds/ForHeavensSake
Summary: When Charlie browses through one of Hermiones books, he gets a bit of a shock. Are those erotic poems? Fluffy goodness





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is my first ever story, just a cheeky little one-shot. I'm not an english native speaker, so please be nice ;) Any constructive criticism is welcome.  
> I stole Charlies appearance from camillablue's story "Pale Blue & Crimson", an absolutley fantastic one-shot. I couldn't see him any other way after reading it. Go check her out.  
> Also a big THANK YOU to Illusory for reading over it and giving her opinion. Her own story "Lessons to Learn" (a Sansa/Sandor fic) is truly brilliant. So hop over there and give it a read, you can thank me later ;)
> 
> Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the one and only J.K. Rowling, except the poems (not mine though)...and Charlies dashing good looks.

It was late and everyone in the Burrow was asleep…or so Charlie thought.  
He came home about an hour ago. The dragon tamer started to work late shifts in the new dragon enclosure in Wales only yesterday and had to get used to the odd hours. He was looking for a flat or a cottage, but for now he was glad to be back home, enjoying being around his family again and, more importantly, having his mothers' food every day.  
He was wide awake and wanted a cup of tea to settle him down. Adrenaline still pumped threw him from an incident at work, involving a young, hormonic dragon breaking free.  
Charlie walked down the stairs as silently as possible. He still knew all the creaking spots but there were a few additional ones, he could not always avoid. When he reached the living room he noticed, that the small lamp by the couch was still on. He went over to it, about to turn it off, when he saw a book, open and with the cover up, lying on the armrest.  
_“So, Hermione’s still awake,”_ he thought. He knew the smart girl was always one of the last to go to bed, but it was well after midnight. He wondered where she was.  
Absently, he picked it up and turned it around. It was rather thin, bound in old, deep-red leather. It looked fairly new, despite the cover.  
He glanced at the pages, not really reading it but then, something caught his eye.  
  
Buttocks  
  
_Buttocks?_ What the hell was she reading? Slightly amused by the thought it could be about child rearing, he started to read in earnest.

**The Vine**  
By Robert Herrick  
  
I dreamed this mortal part of mine  
Was metamorphosed to a vine,  
Which crawling one and every way  
Enthralled my dainty Lucia.  
Methought her long small legs and thighs  
I with my tendrils did surprise;  
Her belly, buttocks, and her waist  
By my soft nervelets were embraced.  
About her head I writhing hung,  
And with rich clusters (hid among  
The leaves) her temples I behung,  
So that my Lucia seemed to me  
Young Bacchus ravished by his tree.  
My curls about her neck did crawl,  
And arms and hands they did enthrall,  
So that she could not freely stir  
(All parts there made one prisoner).  
But when I crept with leaves to hide  
Those parts which maids keep unespied,  
Such fleeting pleasures there I took  
That with the fancy I awoke;  
And found (ah me!) this flesh of nbsp; <mine  
More like a stock than like a vine.  


Charlie stood there, looking down at the book with widened eyes, a surprised and slightly confused look on his face, his mouth agape.  
He doesn’t really know anything about poems but he knew for certain that this one was about sex. He looked the text over again, a dream it seems. A wet dream.  
Hermione is reading a poetry book about wet dreams and sex and…kinky stuff involving plants. He couldn’t believe it.  
Over the last few weeks he was here now, he experienced first hand that the pretty girl was not all about books and rules. She sometimes showed a remarkably devilish side that left him baffled. She also has a wicked sense of humour and her dry, sarcastic jokes surprised him at first.  
But he never expected her to read pornographic poems.  
Maybe it was just the one, maybe the others are ordinary, non-erotic ones.  
Charlie flipped some pages, he stopped randomly and started to read with an agitated feeling.

**may i feel said he**  
by e.e. cummings  
  
may i feel said he  
(i’ll sqeal said she  
just once said he)  
it’s fun said she  
  
(may i touch said he  
how much said she  
a lot said he)  
why not said she  
  
(let’s go said he  
not too far said she  
what’s too far said he  
where you are said she)  
  
may i stay said he  
(which way said she  
like this said he  
if you kiss said she  
  
may i move said he  
is it love said she)  
if you’re willing said he  
(but your’re killing said she  
  
but it’s life said he  
but your wife said she  
now said he)  
ow said she  
  
(tiptop said he  
don’t stop said she  
oh no said he)  
go slow said she  
  
(cccome?said he  
ummm said she)  
you’re divine!said he  
(you are Mine said she)

  
That didn’t help at all. His frantic mind went to all sorts of places, all inappropriate. He quickly turned another page.

**The Jackfruit**  
By Ho Xuan Huong  
Translated by Nguyen Ngoc Bich  
  
I am like a jackfruit on the tree.  
To taste you must plug me quick, while fresh:  
The skin rough, the pulp thick, yes,  
But oh, I warn you against touching—  
The rich juice will gush and stain your hands

  
There was a second translation of the poem and he got the feeling, that it wouldn’t do him good if he continued. He did nonetheless.

Translated by Marilyn Chin  
  
My body is like a jackfruit swinging on a tree  
My skin is rough, my pulp is thick  
Dear prince, if you want to pierce me upon your stick  
Don’t squeeze, I’ll ooze and stain your hands

  
_“Well, this was explicit.”_ Charlie swallowed hard. His mouth was dry and images of naked skin and certain body parts were flashing through his mind.  
  
Hermione chose this exact moment to come back to the living room, a cup of tea in her hand. He looked up, a sheepish expression on his face at being caught. When he saw her looking at the book in his hands, the images in his head switched to show a naked Hermione writhing underneath him and he flushed a deep red, not at all put off by the pictures.  
  
„Um...I…, “ he trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t get a clear thought out of his head. It was all tumbling images of text lines and naked skin.  
  
Hermione walked over to him, peeked into the book, a pink tinge on her cheeks.  
  
“I personally prefer the first translation,” she mumbled embarrassedly, trying to not let it show, “it’s much more…subtle and flowing.” The curly-head took a sip of her tea and glanced at him under her lashes.  
  
Charlie could just stare at her, still bright red in the face.  
  
The girl in front of him smirked slightly at his expression. She wouldn’t have thought he would turn so red by something like that, or any sexual matters in fact. Even with his mouth slightly opened and resembling strongly a cooked lobster, she still found him quite attractive.  
His shoulder-length hair was in a small, high bun most of the time and unlike his other brothers, who were all clean-shaven, his jaw and the space above his lips were coated in a thick layer of stubbles, which he wore well. _“Very well,”_ her smirk turned into a grin.  
  
“What about you?,” she asked, honestly curious.  
  
He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again, lost for words. He cleared his throat, glancing shortly at the book, then looked her straight in the eyes, his embarrassment and shock somewhat abated.  
  
“Same,” he remarked with a husky voice, looking down again, fondling the corners of the book, “I also liked…“The Vine”… I believe it was,” he said slowly, forcing his voice to sound casual, their eyes locked again, and she saw a small smile playing around the corners of his lips. He seemed restored to his usual self.  
“I don’t know, why I was so surprised,” he added, his brow furrowing lightly, “I already noticed that you’re not the innocent little girl anymore. It seems you had some hidden depths, which are coming to the surface now.” His smile turned to a teasing grin. “You really _do_ read everything you can get your hands on, don’t you.”  
  
Hermione’s cheeks turned a brighter shade of pink. She ignored the teasing question and took another sip of her tea and sat down on the couch, placing the mug on the small table beside it. Charlie followed her actions, turning a few pages of the book. When he found what he was looking for, he slightly leaned towards her, pushing the book under her nose. It showed the poem he mentioned before.  
  
“Is this really about a wet dream?,” he asked, pointing to the first line of the text.  
  
“Yes,” she answered, “it’s also quite humorous, you see here in the last part-“ she pointed to the last two lines- “the author is clearly making fun of himself by referring to his…um…penis as a stock,” she stammered and rushed on, “which makes it, in my opinion, less disturbing.”  
  
“Disturbing? How so?” He looked at her and instead of the embarrassed, red-cheeked girl, sat the know-it-all everyone knew. She was back in her element.  
He smiled at that. Charlie didn’t get to see her in action as often as the rest of his family and he relished those moments greatly. He loved seeing her boss the boys around, with her sensible, polite, no-nonsense attitude. If he was honest to himself…he always had a weakness for bossy women. Inside and outside the bedroom.  
  
He grinned as a memory, that took place only a few days ago, came to mind. Charlie came into the kitchen to a very satisfying scene of her reprimanding Ron for being a lazy, sexist git. With hair flying and sparks erupting from her wand in agitation and a cowering red-head in front of her. It was well-deserved and when he moaned about it to his mother, he got a second tongue-lashing from her as well.  
  
“Well,” her voice pulled him back to the present, “there are some elements of potential rape in it. You see here-“ she pointed to a line-“Herrick writes, that 'she could not freely stir' and 'All parts there made one prisoner', which seems to me that she had to endure his erotic passion, that she was not consenting to it. Also, this part-” she continued, quoting-“ 'Such fleeting pleasures there I took', sounds very one-sided, don’t you think?”  
  
“You’re right.” He nodded, considering the text in front of him. “Did nobody say anything about it?”  
  
“Oh, this was published well after the authors’ death,” she explained, “He was an english 17th century poet and a cleric to boot, you could not write publicly about that kind of stuff at that time.” She smiled at him. A thoughtful expression crossed her face. “It’s actually quite interesting to see something from a “bad persons” point of view from time to time. It could often seem not as terrible as you would have thought, sometimes their actions can even be the only logical option they might have had.”  
  
They were quiet for a while, each lost in their thoughts.  
  
“So, what’s your favourite?” Charlie asked suddenly.  
  
“Huh?” the curly-head looked confused for a moment, “oh, poem you mean? Well, I haven’t read them all yet but I quite like Ho Xuan Huongs poems. You’ve read “The Jackfruit” but she wrote so many, about 140, I think.”  She took the book out of his hands and turned a few pages. “This one is my favourite,” she continued and brought it back towards him again to show him the poem. “It’s very graphic, like everything she wrote, but in a sinfully artistic way. She really is a master at double entendres”  
  
Charlie leaned over the book and read the short text in front of him.

**Swinging**  
By Ho Xuan Huong  
Translated by John Balaban  
  
Praise whoever raised these poles  
for some to swing while others watch.  
  
A boy pumps, then arcs his back.  
The shapely girl shoves up her hips.  
  
Four pink trousers flapping hard,  
two pairs of legs stretched side by side.  
  
Spring games. Who hasn’t known them?  
Swingposts removed, the holes lie empty.

  
Hermione watched his face and could tell the moment he was finished. He flushed.  
  
“Why are you blushing?” she asked with a bemused smile, “you already knew what to expect.”  
  
The red-head glanced at her and looked away again, embarrassed. “It’s just…,” he hesitated, “the images it creates…,” he trailed off again. This was messed up. He couldn’t very well tell her, that he was imagining her and him in those poems.  
  
Then it hit him like a bludger. He liked her. He didn’t know how much until now. She was smart, witty and beautiful and had an amazing smile, not to forget how charming she looked when she was reading something in the prophet, that she did absolutely not agree with.  
And he definitely found her attractive, if you noted the half hard-on he had since she came in and he started picturing her. The knowledge, that she was reading erotic poems made her even more desirable to him. This passionate, slightly dark side of her was very alluring, especially when everyone else believed she was a goody two-shoes.  
  
_“Bloody hell! What should I do now?_ _“_ He never saw her being even slightly interested in him.  
  
“Charlie?” She sounded concerned. “Everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she inquired, placing a hand delicatly on his forearm.  
  
He shook his head and waved her concern off. “It’s nothing.”  
He swallowed and decided to see how far he could go. “Ah well, I just pictured someone I didn’t expect. Don’t get me wrong I definitely don’t mind, it just…opened my eyes I guess,” he sounded unsure. She was the brightest witch of her age after all, what if she connected the dots.  
  
Hermione just looked at him for a moment. “You’re picturing someone?” it was more a statement than a question.  
  
“You are not?” Dread settled in his stomach. It seems that he never crossed her mind, while reading stuff like that.  
  
“Sometimes.” The look she cast him was calculating. “Is it someone I know?” she asked slowly.  
  
“Um…yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck. _“How can I get out of this,”_ he thought frantically. She opened her mouth, before he could say more.  
  
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” she apologised.  
  
“No, it’s fine.” He shook his head. “I would tell you but I think I already made enough of a fool out of myself in front of you today,” he smirked and looked at her from the side. _“Yeah, better not tell her that you fancy the pants off her...literally, and you’ve only realised it, after catching her reading eloquent porn_.” He doesn’t know that much about girls, being on a dragon enclosure most of his life doesn’t leave much room for realtionships, but even he knew females wouldn’t like that kind of love declaration.  
  
Hermione gave him a puzzled look, “why would I think you were a fool for finding someone attractive?” she asked with furrowed brows.  
  
“Because of who the person is. And because it’s very one-sided, “ the young man answered truthfully.  
  
“Firstly: Do you know for sure it’s one-sided. Did you ask?” Charlie opened his mouth to answer but before he could get a word out the girl continued. “And secondly: Even if it were one-sided, it would not make a fool out of you for liking someone, or finding someone sexually attractive,” she remarked agitatedly, “it’s not a bad thing, even if it is not reciprocated,” she finished, looking very much like a lioness defending her cubs.  
  
Charlie smiled at her. She was defending him from himself.  
  
“You’re just saying all that so I reveal who I’m fancying,” he teased her, trying to ease the tension.  
  
She just rolled her eyes at him with a small smile  
  
“Alright. I tell if you do “ he answered siriously. His mind though was screaming at him, _“What? Why in Merlins soggy underpants did I just say that?”_ But he was a bloody Gryffindor, and they were known for acting rashly and thinking about it later, if at all.  
  
Hermione flinched back at his statement, her eyes widened in surprise, “Wh..what?” she stuttered.  
  
“You said you’re picturing someone as well, when you’re reading this,” he replied and nodded to the book in her hands. “So, I’ll tell you who it is, if you tell me too,” he said matter-of-factly. “Besides you were just on about how liking someone should not be something to be ashamed of and so on,” he added with a cheeky smirk.  
  
“I’m not ashamed,” she exclaimed, “but thinking about someone in a sexual way doesn’t immediately mean I fancy them,” she tried to reason.  
She was evading. Interesting.  
  
“Well, where’s the problem then?” Charlie queried, still smirking “If it’s only a physical attraction.”  
  
Hermione was flustered. “I didn’t say it was only physical,” she mumbled, contradicting herself.  
  
He leaned towards her then, a wicked smile gracing his lips, “What is it you’re saying then?”  
  
Hermione turned red at his close proximity. “I...,” she breathed, licking her suddenly dry lips.  
  
Charlies eyes followed the movement and stayed there a moment too long to be decent. He looked up again, “You...,” he spoke softly, trying to continue the conversation.  
  
They were sitting closer now, their thighs touching. He could see the different shades of brown in her eyes.  
She opened her mouth to speak but no words were coming out. His gaze travelled to her lips again and he leaned forward unconsciously. She smelled amazing.  
  
The movement made her think. _“Does he mean me?”_ Hermione thought unbelievingly. It certainly seems so right now. But...  
   
Suddenly, she smiled. She licked her lips again, deliberately this time, and his mind went completely blank.  
Charlie couldn’t help himself. He closed the small gap between them and pressed his lips on hers. They were soft and pliable. He sucked at her lower lip, tracing it with his tounge, seeking entrance. Hermiones opened her mouth slightly in response and he slipped in and tasted her. It was intoxicating. She gripped his hair, pulling him closer while his left hand slipped to her back, pulling her towards him.  
Their breathing quickened, drawing air sharply through their noses. His mouth detached from her luscious lips and moved to her jaw, peppering it with small kisses. He went further down her neck, nibbling and sucking. His hands wandered up to her breast, brushing his thumbs over her covered nipples, feeling them harden even through the layers.  
Hermione moaned deeply and gripped his hair tighter. She desperately wanted to feel his skin. She moved her hands swiftly down to the hem of his shirt, slipping them underneath it and slowly moving upwards again, pushing his shirt up in the process. Her fingers ghosted over his nipples and pinched them slightly.  
A small jolt went though him and spurned him on even more. He bit the juncture of her neck and shoulders, gaining a small gasp from her. She broke the contact to push his shirt over his head. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her sharply to him so she was able to lay down on her back. He moved over her continuing his ministrations on her neck. He tried to slip her shirt up as well, but it proved to be rather difficult, as the couch was not spacious enough to move about like that.  
In their frenzie to get their clothes off, they accidently moved to much to the left side and rolled off the couch in a tumble of limbs and half-donned clothing. They landed with a heavy thud. Hermione landed on him, her elbow piercing into his side.  
   
“Ow,” Charlie mumbled, removing her arm to a less painful position.  
  
“Sorry! Are you okay?” Hermione giggled.  
  
“Yeah, I’m alright.” He chuckled, rubbing the spot where there’s certainly going to be a bruise tomorrow. He put his hands back on her hips, rightening her so she was nestled comfortably between his legs. He started drawing circles on the small strip of skin that was exposed, riding her shirt further up.  
  
“Mhmm,” she hummed in pleasure at the soft touch of his moving hands, “we were a bit to eager, I think” she whispered. Stroking back a few strands of his hair, that had escaped his bun The gingers broad hands moved up to her waist and down again over her hips and stopped on her bum.  
  
“A bit,” he agreed, smiling broadly, “maybe we should take it a bit slower, or run the risk to visit Mungos.”  
  
Hermione smirked and leaned down to kiss him. This time they were slow and deep. Indulging in the heat of their closeness and the intimate touches.  
He stroked up her back and down again, enjoying the feel of her soft skin. The girl used her position to ground her hips into his. She bit his lower lip, relishing in the delicious friction her move created. Charlie groaned at the contact and fumbled with her shirt.  
He finally got it over her head and flung the annoying garment away with a grunt of satisfaction.  
The pretty bookworm snickered at his impatience. She moved down to plant soft, open mouthed kisses on his neck and stopped at his collarbone. She raked her short fingernails over his chest, earning a moan and a shudder from the red-head below her.  
He flipped her over, settling himself between her shapley legs and pushing his hips forward. A soft mewling sound escaped Hermione. She arched her back, to get closer to him.  
Charlie pushed the cups of her bra down, to reveal her breast. He started to lick and suck at the tender flesh like a starving man. When he reached her right nipple, he licked it once and blew cold air over it to make them harden even more. He plopped it into his mouth and sucked rigorously at it.  
Hermione moaned deeply. An electric jolt going straight down to her core. Her nails raked over his back, leaving shallow marks.  
  
Suddenly a door creaked and they stilled. Their eyes locked, widened in shock. Trying to get their breathing under control. The sound of a toilet being flushed was heard, some clattering and then, what seemed like hours, the closing of a door again. The couple exhaled in relief.  
  
“Well, I think that’s probably our cue to stop.” Charlie sighed, nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck. He really didn’t want to move but it was for the best. He was not entirely sure that Hermione wouldn’t have regretted it afterwards, if they continued where they were going. Maybe she was just caught up in the moment. He hoped not.  
“We should go to bed anyway. It’s gettin pretty late,” he went on, after lifting his head and looking at the pretty girl underneath him disappointedly.  
  
“Do you really think, I would be able to sleep now?” she questioned mockingly with a raised eyebrow.  
  
The red-head looked amusedly at her. “Probably not. I know I wouln’t, especially after the cold shower I would have had to take,” he grinned cheekily at her, and pushed himself up in a kneeling position between her legs, while she rightened her bra. He took her hands and pulled her up. Teir faces were close, smiling at each other, like the lovesick fools they’re soon going to be. The dragon tamer leaned down to kiss her softly, innocently, compared to the needy, tongue twisting ones before.  
The couple broke apart, after a few additional pecks on the lips.  
  
“A cup of tea then?” Charlie asked with a sweet smile.

* * *

 

Hermione woke up late of course. Getting to bed at dawn, after talking for hours with a red-headed, amazingly good kisser can do that to someone. She walked down to the kitchen, barley awake and with half closed eyes. Mrs. Weasley was busy cleaning the dishes and preparing lunch.  
  
“There you are dear! Are you feeling well? We were worried, when you didn’t get up in the morning,” she rattled off in rapid speed, a concerned look on her face.  
  
“Morning, Mrs. Weasley.” The girl mumbled. “I’m alright, just went to bed a bit later than usual.” Remembering the last night, she fought the blush down, that threatened to appear on her cheeks. A small smile sneaked on her face.  
  
The Weasley matriarch looked disapprovingly at her. “You ought to take better care of yourself, young lady,” she admonished. Turning back to the counter, she pulled out her wand and gave a few taps with it on the cutting board, then she went to put the kettle on. Onions and carrots started slicing themselves, while a big wooden spoon stirred in an enormous pot on the stove.  
  
Hermione sat down on the table and promptly a plate with warm toast was pushed under her nose. She smiled thankfully at Mrs. Weasley and reached for the butter.  
The tired girl looked up, when she heard the door open. Charlie strolled in with a no-care-in-the-world- expression on his face. His smile broadened, when he saw Hermione sitting at the table.  
  
“Good Morning!” He called out cheerfully. He slipped into the chair opposite the girl and reached for a toast on her plate. She slapped his fingers, but he managed to snatch a piece and started to munch happily on it. Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn’t suppress a grin forming on her face. Two cups of tea and a second plate of toast for Charlie were placed in front of them.  
  
“So, you settled in fast in your new routine Charlie,” Mrs. Weasley mentioned, “Bill needed much longer when he had different shifts,” she added absentmindedly.  
  
Charlie smiled good-heartedly at his mother, “Oh I chatted with Hermione until the morning to keep me awake,” he remarked with in a carefree tone.  
  
His mother though, furrowed her brow and cried: “Charles Weasley! I thought I raised you better than this. Keeping the poor girl awake for the whole night,” she screeched, “she was probably too polite to say anything, when she was tired. You boys are really as sensitive as a troll sometimes,” the woman huffed, her hands on her hips.  
  
Hermione chuckled at the look on the man’s face. He looked thoroughly chastised.  
“It’s alright Mrs. Weasley. It was the other way around really. I kept him awake by talking his ear off. You know how I can get, when I talk about something that I’m...passionate about.” Only Charlie could hear the slight hesitation when she said “passionate”. He bowed his head, to suppress the grin that formed briefly on his face.  
  
“Well,... .” Mrs. Weasley was lost for words for a moment. Brushing her hands on her apron she countered: “that’s not an excuse. He should have realised how late it was and should’ve sent you to bed.” With those final words, she turned around and pottered about in the kitchen.  
   
For a while they just looked at each other, a knowing glint in their eyes. Finally Charlie broke the silence.  
  
“Passionate, hmm?” He spoke quietly, smirking. “  
  
“Of course, we talked about literature,” she smiled overly-sweetly at him and batted her eyelashes.  
  
He barked a laugh. “I can see why. There are some...stimulating books out there”  
  
She nodded and said with a serious tone, “Quite. I actually have a _very_ interesting book about dragons. I can show it to you tonight, if you like,” she finished with a devilish smirk.  
  
He grinned back. “Looking forward to it.”


End file.
